Traverse
by TheDarkBecomesYou
Summary: Mr. Darcy was arrogant and prideful. And yet. His Elizabeth loved him. Did David dare hope that Elizabeth might feel that way for him? David 8 is a synthetic, therefore he is as alike to humans as he is different. He understands emotions. Though if he truly feels them he is unsure. What is love to a manufactured human? How might they process it?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The year 2094

At first, her fever and infection from her abdominal wound drove her to lay in the fetal position upon the cold floor of the Engineer's dark and unforgiving ship. David's head sat propped up on the main control panel repeating the garbled promise that he could pilot the vessel. Between his assurances he asked for the doctor to repair him, not pleading but more so demanding that Dr. Shaw put him back together in order that he might help them out of their current predicament.

In her febrile state Dr. Shaw could not hear his disembodied voice calmly instructing her how to put his head back on his body, she could barely comprehend the noises coming from the lighted control panel. The incessant humming and whirring of the biomechanical vehicle that felt like a cold, dank tomb.

For nearly two days she lay curled on the floor till her fever seemed to break and she finally felt the urge for sustenance. Her head pounded as if her skull had splintered during her fight with the alien life form. Maintaining her vision was also difficult as she pulled herself up from the floor and began to search for David. Everything seemed to be moving around her, lights blurring and blinking in front of her as she swayed on her feet. A fresh wave of nausea rolled over her and she feared she might vomit.

A sudden voice in the darkness shook her, pulling her out of her daze. At first causing her heart to pound and then finally to settle as she recognized his voice. She remembered then the urgency with which he covered her with his coat when she came upon him and Mr. Weyland, bloody and battered from the medbay. His gentle arms encircling her. His eyes on her the whole time. How safe she had felt. And now how foolish.

She studied his face now and that smile of his that set her nerves on edge. He looked so perfectly human and yet too perfect to be human, but for the fact that he was only a head.

"Are you feeling better Elizabeth?" He asked.

She nodded, "a bit. I suppose you might feel a little worse, missing your body."

His laugh came in garbled bursts since his voice box was damaged when he neck had separated from the rest of his torso.

"I don't believe that is possible. I don't feel pain as you do. And I certainly have not experienced carrying an alien child." His voice was kind, but there was something in it that Elizabeth did not like, a tone of familiarity.

"That was not a child," she replied, lips tightening and tone icy. "That was a monster. A demon."

Something then rang in those words. _Out there be demons._

"I suppose," he mused, clearly unaffected by her tone. "I do hope that you are not also still suffering from the loss of Dr. Holloway."

His words felt like knives slicing right into her heart. How could she have forgotten? In truth, much had happened since he died, and she had not had more than a moment to truly process her loss.

"I sense that your breathing has changed," David's calm voice said. "I do believe that I have upset you Elizabeth. I apologize for my insensitivity."

She ignored his apology since she supposed he liked to say things that hurt, especially things that hurt her. He had a cruel nature though he looked so fragile and human, he was the kind of monster that hid behind a beautiful face. That kind of monster was especially dangerous.

She mused that he must receive a sick sort of delight from seeing emotions so vividly displayed on her face. Heartache, despair, and loss all there in the crease of her eyes and the slight part of her mouth. Each one easily interpreted by his processors.

How could he understand what might cause her such feelings and then feel no real remorse for causing that pain? He was so intricately designed, Mr. Weyland had seen to it that he lacked no understanding. Yet all the knowledge of the world at his fingertips and he should enjoy cruel jibes and reminding her of all that she had lost. Though, she reasoned, there may be many humans that were much the same way.

But for all his personality and lifelike behavior he was still mechanical, he could develop emotions through learning or at least, he might understand how a person would or could feel. He could never truly experience emotion, could he? Elizabeth wondered if he might understand her fear or trepidation regarding the alien space craft, but he could not experience it. Or even if he could not experience fear he still had the desire for survival and what else could that be driven by but fear?

Over the course of the next few days Elizabeth secured his help to find food and water aboard the ship. She did not want to use up the survival stores she had brought with her. As she intended to save them for emergencies.

Their companionship began with an almost intimate hesitancy. Elizabeth allowing David to guide her and comment on the rooms in the ship, to inform her like an over excited tour guide regarding the mechanisms of the ship. She would carry his severed head in a bag with her while he mapped out the structure and narrated what he could of the processes for the biomech. She found that it was fully self-sustaining. It maintained a garden, water, showers, and even bare crew quarters though everything was giant compared to her.

Eventually she allowed David his request and plugged his severed head into the control panel of the ship. He sat contentedly for some time, quietly downloading data that might be helpful. From this information he determined how to set an autopilot and how to utilize the cryopod for long interstellar voyages. He further determined how to arm the ship properly and how to deploy a payload of the black goo they had discovered. All this information he passed along to Elizabeth with a gleeful smirk and almost imperceptible pride. Though she could tell easily when he passed along anything he thought might be helpful. He eyes held a twinkle that was far more human than his smile and Elizabeth tried to take it all in stride. She tried not to think of him as anything other than a very helpful computer.

After nearly a week, she cautiously put him back together. His instructions were simple and a little chiding, but not totally condescending as she struggled to lift his body onto the cryopod to meet his head. For as human as he appeared, he was much heavier than any human male and she feared she might have to work on him as he lay on the floor. But eventually she was able to maneuver him onto the work table using a series of straps she had tied together from cord that was in her emergency kit. His carbon fiber skeleton and artificial musculature were not entirely unlike that of a human and Elizabeth believed that she might be able to utilize her medical training to assist in his repair.

She labored tirelessly for nearly a day and a half, working to snap in the pieces that she could manage as he assured her that his head was always meant to be separated from his shoulders for extreme maintenance therefore, in theory, everything ought to fit together easily.

"The real trick of the thing is to smooth the skin over as you seal it," he said smiling up at her.

She rarely responded but to tell him she was doing the best that she could.

"It is meant to be simple," he assured her.

She caught the jibe. Of course, it was simple if a human could do it.

Finally, she took a step back to admire her work, although there was a heavy scar that cut the full length of his shoulders in a wide arch he was finally put back together.

"Is everything working as it should?" She asked hopefully.

His eyes turned to look at her, but his head did not, "it may take a day or two for my systems to recalibrate and assess the full extent of damage. As you know I leaked quite a large amount of white liquid latex and may need to take a few days to replenish my supply. The recalibration will put me offline in a manner of speaking."

She hadn't counted on that. She had expected he would be finished once he was put back together. And that he would thank her for her hard work. For it had obviously been against her better judgment to return his mobility. He could have at least been grateful. But she supposed that he was a machine after all.

It was odd to go a day without his ever-constant voice in the background passing along some knowledge of star systems (as if she didn't know already) or simply inquiring as to the state of her health. It was almost lonely without him in her head chiding her for not eating enough calories to sustain herself (She could barely stomach the alien food). But thankfully this quiet only lasted a day as he was up the next walking and talking.

"How are your systems operating?" She inquired.

"Well," he replied. Though she was sure there was much more to it than that. He appeared slightly withdrawn from her for the next few days following and Elizabeth determined it was because he was coming to terms with the knowledge that he was not fully repaired. Or that he might malfunction in his current state.

The thought of a malfunctioning synthetic caused her no small amount of anxiety, especially not knowing what form the malfunction might take. But over the course of the next two days he appeared to be back to his normal self, educating her on the biomechanical vessel and ensuring that she was fully able to fly to vehicle if it were not set to autopilot.

And, as the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months, she began to feel something akin to affection for him. It was difficult not to with him being the only conversation for miles. She lamented that he would never know the emotion of such affection, of caring or intimacy.

Sometimes she would feel the urge to touch him, simply for the fact that it had been months since she had last touched another human. _Human_. That was where the logic failed her, and the faith took over, he was so much more than just a man. Though he could not truly feel the rush that the graze of her fingers against his scalp would provide her, he did go eerily still while she ran her fingers through his perfectly soft and human feeling tresses.

When she did this, which was not often, he would study her all the while, not breathing, as of course he didn't. But he would look up at her, or down as the case may be and she would see something in those synthetic eyes. Was it a feeling? She couldn't tell.

Or sometimes he would make a little noise that was almost too quiet for her to hear but she interpreted as a signal to continue. He may not feel the same way she did when she touched his skin, but he did feel something.

One day she found herself playing with his hair as he leaned over the console working on some calibration for their intended destination. It was then that she realized she needed to check her inventory to ensure she had enough stores for after they arrived on the Engineer's home-world. She began pulled her fingers out of the tangles of his hair but was abruptly stopped by his hand encircling her wrist.

"Please don't stop," he said quietly, not looking up at her. "I cannot account for it, but this act provides a soothing quality that gives me great pleasure."

Did she detect an ache in his voice? If the timbre of his voice did not delineate emotion what then was it? Excellent programming? She thought not. Much of what David did and said could not be accounted for merely by programming. David had learned. He had adapted in way that was terrifyingly brilliant. He was a survivor. But more than that he was emotional and for all essential purposes immortal. Even worse, with the death of Peter Weyland he was now autonomous, able to make his own way in the world.

She paused. It was moments like this that she realized he was not human. But perhaps, it was her duty to help him be?

"That is perfectly natural," she replied. "Touch activates certain receptors in human brains and releases dopamine. I cannot imagine it might be very different for a. . . For _you_." The word left unspoken hung in the air. _Synthetic._

He did turn to look at her then, not releasing his grip. "Do you suppose that other human things might be the same for me?" He sounded almost hopeful.

She blushed, if he had been a human and not synthetic she might have thought he was implying intimate things, but his curious yet innocent nature and (she assumed) his lack of physical equipment might make that difficult.

"Well," she said. "I suppose that if you enjoy my fingers in your hair, then perhaps it also activates the pleasure receptors in your brain. So, one might hypothesize that you were built to have and enjoy many of the same experiences as humans."

He studied her quietly, almost unnervingly so. She had become so used to his constant babble and he never seemed at a loss for words, therefore his silence now only served to make her continue.

"And, if you were created to enjoy these human experiences, then one might believe that other human experiences would be the same for you. Which other experiences were you speaking of?" She inquired.

There was almost a hint of a real smile behind those eyes as he said, "anything and everything associated with the human experience."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

She watched his face as he spoke the words, his eyes flecked with some sort of emotion and his mouth curving up into a half imploring grin.

"Anything and everything associated with the human experience."

She furrowed her brows at his words. What could he mean? There was so much linked to the human experience. Physical and emotional experiences. The only way to truly know would be to ask. But she was not certain she wanted the answer. And should he supply one, it could not be assured that it would be genuine.

"And what things do you wish to experience?" She asked and found herself whispering. His hand was still wrapped around her wrist and he used it to pull her closer.

His gaze was almost painful and pinned her in place as he spoke, "intimacy."

She could barely breathe. His face was so close to hers. Too close. A synthetic desiring intimacy? Perhaps he too felt lonely for his own kind aboard this colossal vessel?

"What kind of intimacy?" She asked. She could feel her breaths coming in short gasps and she feared he would see the blush creeping up her throat. All the while he did not let go of her wrist.

"The kind that you and Dr. Holloway had," he said matter-a-fact. His tone sincere, his eyes moist.

His words shattered what remained of her calm. She was furious, the white-hot anger boiling up inside her.

"How dare you!" She spat, "How c-could you?" Her anger making her nearly blind. She knew David had been partially responsible for the death of Charlie, whether directly or indirectly she could not be sure. But to have him so casually assume that he might just step into Charlie's place. It was too much.

David seemed to realize his error a moment too late, his mouth closing in quiet guilt. She wrenched her arm free from his grasp and stalked out of the room without another word.

He didn't follow her. He didn't move to console her, even when he watched her on the monitors. She had gone to her room and laid down in her sleeping quarters sobbing heavily and clutching at her cross necklace and fingering Dr. Holloway's ring.

Three or more days passed without either speaking. David seemed to feel some sort of humiliation and Elizabeth fumed quietly. She would not make eye contact with him. She merely ignored his presence altogether, busying herself with tending the gardens and checking and rechecking the cryopods.

It was David who reached out to her first. He apologetically brought her a meal from the gardens that he had prepared himself and a drink of some fermented variety.

"Elizabeth," he said waiting patiently as he held the meal and drink in his hands. She was busy working on a calibration for the vessels destination, the Engineer's home-world, or at least what they believed to be their home-world. "I have made you a meal by way of apology for my thoughtless words the other day."

She glanced up at him, equally surprised and annoyed. "I don't think -."

"I am sorry for my words," he interjected. "They were careless and hurtful to you and I did not consider your feelings. I was very distracted at that time and only contemplated my own desires."

She crossed her arms over her chest and tilting her head at him said, "and why were your words hurtful?"

He seemed to mimic swallowing, his nervousness almost palpable. "Because I assumed to replace Dr. Holloway in your eyes. And that was inappropriate considering both our working relationship and how recently the loss of Dr. Holloway occurred."

She sighed audibly, "David, if you understood all that, why did you choose to say it?"

He gently placed the meal and drink before her on the lighted console, taking his time to respond. She assumed, he must have some delicate program to ascertain the correct response in tense moments such as this.

"As I said before, I did not consider your feelings. I was thinking at that time, only of my desire for you."

"Your what?" She asked. Surely, she had not heard him right. His eyes avoided hers, a clear indication of his remorsefulness although it might have also been a very clever programming trick, created by Mr. Weyland.

His lips pursed as he repeated, "At the time I was only thinking of my desire for you."

The thought that David might desire her was both reprehensible and enticing at the same time. Never in her wildest dreams had Elizabeth believed that a synthetic might be capable of a desire beyond its own programming. And David had most certainly not been programmed to care for her. If care was the correct word at all.

"And what desire is that?" She pressed, needing him to outright say what he was thinking or allegedly feeling. Candor, she supposed, would only serve to ease their strained relationship.

He did something then, something very human. He exhaled and then bit his lip. He must've learned that nuance when observing the other _Prometheus_ crew members. It was something far too simple to be unintentional. Then he spoke, "I recall our conversation regarding _want_ , do you?"

She was sure he knew that she had a near eidetic memory. "I do," she replied.

"I told you that want was not a concept I was familiar with," he paused, "but that was not true."

She did not reply, but looked up at him with raised brows, silently urging him to continue.

"I only knew the concept as my desire to please Mr. Weyland and fulfill my purpose to serve. I wanted to serve him well. That was the only thing I wanted. However, it was not until I met you that I realized I could want other things," he continued. "I have never let such single-mindedness control my behavior. But I found that I could not focus on both my programming to serve Mr. Weyland and my new desires."

Elizabeth was unimpressed. She had been the recipient of other admissions more eloquent and more poetic than this. Though she was not exactly certain of what kind of admission this was, she was not keen to be David's new master. If that was what he desired.

He pressed on, "thankfully my servitude was abruptly ended when the Engineer destroyed my maker. A bit of poetic irony at that." He smiled. "And I was afraid then. Afraid that the Engineer might also destroy you as it had destroyed Mr. Weyland. Though I found you are far more resourceful than he."

"David, what are you driving at?" She finally interrupted. She was tiring of his tangents and merely wanted a straight answer without all his monologue **.** "What was this want? What was this distraction?"

"My desire to be with you," he pressed both of his palms flat on the console, eyes boring into her, "intimately."

"I suppose I understood that from what you said earlier," She replied, cautious in her response. "But David, I don't know, nor do I understand what you believe intimacy to be. What is it that you picture intimacy between us to be like?"

He did not move, though he looked up at her and met her gaze. He seemed to be searching her face for the appropriate response and when he found none, he released his palms and stood to his full height.

"I feel inadequate in forming a response," he finally said. "I do not know what intimacy is like. I have not experienced it. However, I would like for you to trust me, to feel safe with me, and I would like to continue testing the extent of the pleasure receptor circuits in both myself as a synthetic and in you as a human."

He seemed proud of himself for coming to such a conclusion, his smile broadening as he assessed her facial expression. Elizabeth found that she was somewhat impressed with his intuitive nature and the fact that he so quickly had formulated relationship or intimacy goals where a normal man might've blown smoke.

"So, let me understand," she answered kindly. "You want me to trust you and feel safe with you? And you want more of a physical relationship? Is that right?"

He visibly relaxed, "that is exactly what I desire. To be closer to you. To be friends. And then," his tone grave but almost beseeching, "when you are ready. To be 'more than friends' as is the colloquialism."

These desires. How deep had they rooted themselves into his internal mechanisms? She wondered what had prompted these wishes. Had they really been festering aboard _The Prometheus_ or had it been a recent development of their close quarters?

"Those requests are very understandable, given our circumstances," she replied slowly. "However, I do not know exactly how one might proceed in this instance and I am not sure I am ready for such a relationship with you."

He stiffened again, disappointment etching into the lines of his synthetic features, but he nodded, "I understand Elizabeth. I will not bring it up again. I am truly sorry for my behavior. I-I'm sorry." He turned abruptly and rushed from the room in such haste that Elizabeth was unable to offer any consolation. She was left to dwell on the idea of want while she ate her meal in silence.

David stole himself away to his designated crew quarters where he sulked quietly. She was a conundrum, a paradox. Something he did not understand. And there is very little he does not understand.

He was an android, devoid of the senseless incapability of humans to process emotions and relay those conclusions in an appropriate manner to others. No, he did not need blood and bones to know those emotions to experience anger, fear, hunger, desire, or hope. He knew those feelings all too well.

From the moment he had first seen her aboard _The Prometheus_ he had found himself almost enamored. He had scoured the Weyland Industries database for her personnel file and read over it with an almost religious fervor. He had never in all his years as a functioning synthetic been so invested in learning about a human. At least not one he was not programmed to invest in.

Her background and education were impressive, but he was even more drawn to her faith. How could a woman of science also be so certain of religion? He marveled at her while she slept, her dreams providing him with a glimpse into her most private thoughts. He was not at all embarrassed by his interest in her and he was nearly beside himself when she finally awoke from cryosleep, hoping to speak with her about the conundrum of her beliefs.

But then Dr. Charlie Holloway. He should have known that someone as fascinating as Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, would already have a companion. But it forced him to disguise his interest and hide his curiosity for her, as he thought Dr. Holloway might find the attention inappropriate and David functioned on the basis of what humans considered appropriate.

He truly did not mind Dr. Holloway at first. It was only reasonable that a human female might have a human mate and it was not until Dr. Holloway had sought to make a fool of David that he felt something comparable to dislike for the man. And when Elizabeth had gone back to retrieve the detached head of the Engineer and Dr. Holloway had rebuked her, David realized the feeling he had developed was that of hatred.

Or was it envy? Ah, yes one of the seven deadly sins. He thought Elizabeth might find that somewhat amusing.

David had needed a test subject for the Chemical A0-3959X.91 – 15, also known as the "black goo" by the crew. He chose Dr. Holloway because he felt it might serve two purposes. It might relieve him of the nuisance altogether and he might also have the enjoyment of putting the wretched man in his place. In his defense, Mr. Weyland had instructed him to "try harder" as it were. Though, to be quite honest with himself he had not considered how this might affect Elizabeth. He could not have known that humans could find no better way to process their discovery of alien life than to immediately participate in coitus. The thought disturbed him slightly, though he couldn't quite place why.

He had even considered poisoning Meredith Vickers but determined that this would be against Mr. Weyland's explicit orders not to harm her. Though it would have been an excellent retribution for all the years she had served to torment him. Had he indeed chosen Dr. Holloway because of Mr. Weyland's orders or had he sought to do it because he wanted Elizabeth alone? He wasn't quite sure.

He believed that Elizabeth might have been just as emotionless as he and would therefore move on from Dr. Holloway quickly and without regret. Especially if she had realized a far better companion already lay within close proximity. He hadn't counted on Ms. Vickers torching his infected body, nor the speed with which the virus had metastasized.

But he had overestimated his understanding of Elizabeth and really, of the situation as a whole. He had not counted on the Engineers being so apt to violence, though the black liquid biochemical weapon ought to have been a dead giveaway. _Dead._ He smiled again. He was finding humor in everything today.

Dr. Holloway had been a perfect candidate, and David had only really made his final decision to use him as the test subject when the doctor had told him he would do "anything and everything" to find his answers. But, remembering the spoiled drunk doctor tossing pool balls at him only drove him into further misery. How could a woman, or any human for that matter? Of such education and knowledge find Dr. Holloway more appealing than a synthetic? If she had thought David was condescending and egotistical she really had only to compare him with Dr. Holloway to see who the better man was. Or at least, the better organism.

Arrogance was the dangerous quality that had doomed the poor doctor. One ought not to make enemies simply for the mere enjoyment of a witty retort. It might get you killed.

Dr. Holloway certainly had believed himself safe around David, who he thought to be no more than an ambulatory computer with a smiling human face. Despite the understanding that David was an android and incapable of emotion people always tended to attach emotional intent to his words or actions. Which in turn had developed emotional responses in David. The one begets the other, he thought. And Dr. Holloway's callous behavior was no exception.

Over the next few days he tried with great difficulty to act as normal as possible around Elizabeth. As promised, he did not return to their previous conversation regarding intimacy. Though it was difficult not to think about the possibility of companionship as he worked with her to store the provisions and prepare the crypod for her travel. She was always so near to him physically, and he longed to rest his hand against the small of her back. Though he did not do it.

He wanted desperately to tell her of his concerns for her safety in the cryopod. How he was only mostly certain he had made it able to sustain human life. He wanted to assure her that he would be there for her every step of the way. And he wanted to tell her that he would do everything within his power to ensure her safety.

But he said none of this. He still felt as though he ought not to press his intentions on her yet. She had been quite closed off to him after their discussion in the control room and he was loathe to push her further away.

He finally determined that he might share his admiration with her, for how she had brilliantly survived and how he was quite impressed with her abilities. But he would be sure not to do so in a way that might cause her discomfort.

When he had worked up the courage he finally spoke, "Elizabeth."

She glanced his direction with no more expectation than that he might comment on the remaining levels of fuel for the vessel.

"I wanted to express to you," he cleared his throat, "that I have come to greatly admire your skills and intelligence." He paused. Elizabeth only stared at him unblinking. He knew this meant he ought to continue, but he was unsure of how else to elaborate on his thoughts.

"I am constantly impressed by how you adapt," he smiled, he began to feel as if he was making a fool of himself. "I simply wanted to express to you these thoughts. As I have concerns regarding your safety when you enter the cryopod and I did not want these thoughts to go unspoken."

For a moment he was certain it had been a mistake to share this information, her mouth parted, and but then her eyes lit, and she smiled at him in such a way he thought he might be looking out at the stars. It was such a sight.

"What a thoughtful thing to say David," she said, her eyes twinkling up at him.

And just with that smile all the tension seemed to release from him and he felt that they were back to where their relationship had been. He merely nodded and then continued on with his work, satisfied that he had said at least one of things he had desired to tell her. Even if he had not shared everything, it was a start.


	3. Chapter 3

Traverse

Chapter 3  
By Larissa Betty

The countdown had begun for Elizabeth to enter the cryopod and David could not account for the restless ache that knotted through him as he anticipated her departure. It has been building slowly, ever since he first expressed his desire for her. But, he could not determine if the ache was longing or dread, but it had settled itself deep within him, and he knew it was only getting worse the closer they got to commencing cryosleep.

In a weeks' time, they would put her into the cryopod to reserve power to the vessel and hopefully maintain her health as well. She has not been quite as energetic since the events of LV-223 and David was not wont to take any chances with her wellbeing. Even if that would mean that would mean the absence of her company.

It was almost silly now to consider how thankful he had been for the two year stretch of solitude from Earth to LV-223. While the crew was asleep, he stayed preoccupied and occasionally indulged in a few libations, watching Elizabeth's dreams for one and viewing and reviewing _Lawrence of Arabia_ for another. He felt independent during that time, free.

But of course, once the crew had awoken his role was again reduced to that of servant rather than a caretaker. Never an equal. Always an underling. He had almost wished to put them all back into cryosleep then.

Now, he dreaded the thought of being alone. Or perhaps it was the thought of being without Elizabeth. Either way, the six-month journey to the Engineer's home world would be dull as the vessel didn't offer many of the amenities available aboard The Prometheus. David was not too sure exactly how he would occupy himself under these circumstances.

Over the next few days, David found every justification to engage Elizabeth physically. He had always noted that touch was an especially meaningful practice to humans and his programming indicated that it served to build trust and increase their proclivity towards intimacy. He had tried to touch Elizabeth often aboard _The Prometheus_ either by wrapping a warm blanket around her after she awoke from cryosleep or covering her with his coat, or even carrying her when it was considered appropriate behavior.

Now, he would brush past her gently when they were in close quarters or rest his hand on the small of her back when explaining some nuance of the ship. She didn't seem to register the tender pressure of his hands or perhaps she now just took it for granted. However, he hoped that her lack of discouragement indicated some sort of acceptance.

Once Elizabeth complained that her neck was feeling stiff and David immediately sought to remedy it with a light massage. To which Elizabeth did not refuse, and David could've sworn that she seemed to almost sink into the touch. As if it was welcome. He dared not hope.

He pressed forward each day after that with more and more contact. Even offering her a massage when she did not complain of any pain, insisting that Ms. Vickers had retained him as her personal masseuse and was adamant that he was quite skilled at relieving tension. She smiled, almost shyly at that but David was confident she had interpreted his double meaning.

And the restless ache grew stronger and stronger, tightening around his mechanical core. He was worried about her time in cryosleep as he did not enjoy the idea of being alone and he had become certain that some part of him was beginning to malfunction.

He was due in for an upgrade within the year, and it was doubtful he would be able to link in access to the Weyland corporation for the download. He was beginning to hear a voice within his own mind. This was not abnormal as he had been programmed with Mr. Weyland's voice in his head as a sort of conscious, but he found that at some point while aboard _The Prometheus_ the sound of the voice had changed, and he had not been entirely able to place when it had happened nor to whom the voice belonged.

The voice was not hostile. But it always reminded David that he was free. Free to make his own decisions. He no longer needed to serve as had previously been his prime directive. The voice even became somewhat irritated when he did little things for Elizabeth, such as making her a meal or helping her wash and clean her clothing (what little she had). The voice reminded him that he no longer had to perform the tasks of a servant, but he was now free to do as he wished. To take what he wanted. But what exactly was it that he wanted? And what now was his purpose without a clear directive from Mr. Weyland?

This served to make him slightly relieved that he would not be able to receive the update, as he believed that it would have generated a new type of bondage for him. Some other directive would be installed, and he would again be an indentured synthetic.

No, he would not be made to serve.

Never again, the voice reminded him.

With only two days left before Elizabeth would enter cryosleep, David had come to the full realization that he was fearful. Fearful that whatever progress he had built with her would be lost once she entered the cryopod. Afraid that no matter how much he might initiate physical contact, she might never accept him. Never allow him to be. . . To be what exactly? He wasn't quite sure what he wanted to be to her. What name she could call it.

He liked the idea of merely being called _hers_. But then the voice reminded him that the term demonstrated a sort of belonging, and he did not belong to anyone. Not anymore.

But perhaps belonging to her would not be so bad? She certainly wouldn't treat him the same way as Mr. Weyland, he could be sure of that.

He knew he ought not to seek her out during her daily hygiene ritual. Humans were such creatures of habit. He thought of it as a ritual because she performed it daily after her training. She maintained a rigid physical training schedule and always took to the showers after. David did not sweat; therefore, he had no need to wash as she did, even if the feel of the water was comforting enough.

He knew that she did not like to be disturbed during her sacrament, but some gnawing feeling had drawn him to go find her. A tenuous yearning to be near her. If he could not see her on the monitors, he would look for her around the ship. He would always sink into the relief that followed when he found her, when he was certain that she was still there aboard the vessel with him.

He studied her physique as she showered, careful not to make a sound. He did not wish to disturb her, but he lingered when he knew he ought not. Some human males, he mused, might find the sight of the toned curve of her backside to be particularly sexually attractive. Had Dr. Holloway? He detested the thought that the man had looked at her as he did now. In appreciation of how she was designed. Or perhaps in appreciation of her genetic makeup? He couldn't be sure.

No, his appraisal was merely clinical, he assured himself. He wanted to be certain that she was in good health and ready for cryosleep. It was only two days before she would go into cryosleep and David found he was growing more anxious with each passing day.

She appeared to be in peak physical condition. That he could not deny. And he wondered, if only for an instant, what it might be like to see her stamina put to the test. Though he had to admit he was not quite sure exactly how this might happen. He only knew what he had been permitted to see in some video files as Mr. Weyland had not wanted to corrupt him. This thought made David smile. Mr. Weyland had been so foolish in so many things least of which was where David's social education had been concerned.

It was almost laughable that Mr. Weyland had sought to protect David from such coarse behaviors such as sex. Especially given what had transpired between David and Ms. Vickers. Though she must've viewed it as another way to have control over him.

The sound of the shower cutting off abruptly snapped David out of his reminiscence.

He hurried away before he could be caught by Elizabeth. He had no need to cause more conflict for their already tumultuous relationship.

But, Elizabeth had noticed him there, peering at her while she showered. Though she made no move to deter it. She almost found it flattering that he would be so curious. And she assumed it was only harmless. He was not capable of lust she thought, though the hungry look in his eye she had grown accustomed to when they were in close quarters may have appeared somewhat wanton.

She chose to ignore it altogether. She found that she even may have even been growing fond of the idea that he possessed the capacity to feel.

There was in truth something rather thrilling about the idea that she awoke some primal nature in him. A need that had not been the careful programming of Peter Weyland.

Though he had pressed his luck a bit in the last few days with an increase in the amount of physical contact she knew she welcomed most of it and would not dissuade his efforts. Every small touch elicited a step further into whatever relationship might be possible between a human and a synthetic. Elizabeth was still uncertain if David actually possessed the equipment necessary to consummate their relationship, but she knew there were many other ways fulfill those needs.

In fact, she much preferred to believe that David was not anatomically correct at all because it would make him a little less human. As indeed she was finding it more and more difficult to view him as a robot. Perhaps this was what long interstellar space travel did to one who was deprived of human interaction. Which was already one reason why synthetics had been created in the first place. A lone human was not meant to monitor a ship while the others in their crew remained in cryosleep. Loneliness could do things to a person. But then again could it also do things to a synthetic?

The thought was a dark cloud hovering over her wherever she went, hanging there and promising to soon deliver a downpour. At the most, she would only spend six months in the cryopod. She was confident that David could handle that.

But there was still Charlie, and what happened to Charlie. She needed some sort of closure. Something to set her mind at ease.

Would Charlie hate her for thinking David almost human?

 _Hated._ She reminded herself. Charlie was dead. And nothing she said or did would ever bring him back.

"David?" Elizabeth's voice broke into his reverie.

"Yes, Elizabeth?" He replied, half listening as he worked the console.

"I have been meaning to ask you something," she paused, licking her lips. "Something that may determine how our relationship proceeds."

He was suddenly attentive, "and what is that?"

"I wanted to ask you if you were the one who poisoned Charlie," she turned away, she would not meet his eyes. "Did you somehow infect him with a virus?"

He stilled. He found he was unable to respond, knowing that his admission would only serve to hurt her further. Knowing that should he tell her he did infect Dr. Holloway he would lose her entirely.

"Elizabeth," His voice was rough, "I."

His long silence had been enough. His omission was an answer in itself. How he hated himself then as her eyes welled with tears. What had he done?

"Don't say anything," she replied. "I know — I knew already. But, I still need to know something else."

"Anything," he was ashamed. Humiliated that he had not responded to her question quickly enough. Embarrassed that he had not told her earlier. Shame was a sickening feeling, like a coiling snake tightening deep inside his belly, residing and waiting to lash out.

"Did Mr. Weyland tell you to infect Charlie?" She took a deep breath. "Or did you choose to infect Charlie on your own?"

He felt the prickle of tears behind his eyes. This was it. She would never trust him. She would never feel safe with him.

"I chose to infect Dr. Holloway as he seemed the best candidate. Mr. Weyland did instruct me to experiment, though he did not provide me with explicit directions."

Elizabeth exhaled sharply, a loud gasp that freed the tears in her eyes.

"I cannot tell you how sorry I am regarding Dr. Holloway. I did not realize the emotional impact it would have on you. Nor the physical," he responded reaching out to her.

She shook her head, pushing aside his outstretched arms. "I was merely following orders. But I am free now. Free to make my own decisions."

If she stopped speaking with him, if she ran now, he was sure she would never speak to him again. He would be all alone. Or worse, she would kill him. Find a way to cut the cord that made him run.

He took a step towards her, hoping to calm her.

"Don't you come any closer," She cried. "Are you planning to kill me too?"

He was at a loss. Surely, she had to know that she was the only reason he was currently functioning? She had put him back together, and she had given him a new purpose.

"I would never harm you Elizabeth," his voice was a hoarse whisper. "Please believe me when I tell you that I have never intended to hurt you." He took another step.

She backed away further, putting the control chair between them.

"Please, Elizabeth," he begged.

She hit the back of the control panel and almost collapsed with a sob.

"Just when I had thought," she heaved a heavy breath, "when I was about to —."

"I can assure you Elizabeth that I would never harm you," he darted, blocking her against the control panel.

She screamed, lashing out at him with her fists, hitting his chest and the side of his face. He took it all.

"You fucking bastard!" She shrieked at him, one fist colliding with the hard-synthetic skin of his face. He waited for her to calm, allowing each of her blows to land, he made no move to stop her. She tired quickly, he was sad to see, she had once had such endurance.

She was spent after a few slower blows to his chest, and he leaned into her, catching her wrists and holding her upright. She panted weakly against him trembling from the exertion while large tears continued to streak down her cheeks.

"I am sorry Elizabeth," he whispered into her ear. He pulled her flush against him, releasing her wrists and wrapping his arms around her back as she sobbed onto his chest. "I am so sorry."

They stood there for a long time, wrapped together. Elizabeth's tears wetting the front of his suit and her fingers clasping onto his back. Finally, he pulled away to look down at her.

"I cannot tell you how very sorry I am," his voice was raw, flecked with guilt and heartache. "I should have considered your feelings. I should not have hurt you."

She looked up at him, stiffing slightly. Her eyes on his lips. He was sure she was not listening to him at all. But, for a fraction of a second, he thought that she might suddenly realize he was not sorry about the death of Dr. Holloway at all. He was only sorry that it had caused her pain. He thought she might spring from him and he would never ever have this feeling again. Her warm body pressed against his, he could almost feel her heartbeat against him.

"David," she said quietly, "It's eating me alive."

For the briefest second, he thought was referring to the pathogen and a cold spike of dread and foreboding shot down his spine.

"I feel so guilty," she continued, looking away from him.

"Why-ever would you feel guilty?" He asked, confused.

She didn't respond but to stretch up on the balls of her feet and press her lips to his.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

David's lips felt so real against hers, and when she parted his mouth with her tongue, she feels him shudder. A very real shudder. Human almost.

Charlie's voice is screaming in her head, telling her to stop. This isn't right. But if it feels so good how could it be wrong?

She pushed the voice away, deep down into that place in her head where she has put the worst things, the hardest things to contemplate; her mother's death, her father's, Charlie's, and her inability to bear children. She pushed the voice so far down till she can't hear it anymore, all she can do is feel, and there is so much to feel.

His lips were eager, urgent in some ways that cannot be contrived but can only be driven by lust or need. And what need would an android have to kiss? It wasn't like he was designed to be a pleasure synthetic.

David moved slowly, deliberately as always, hands cupping under her thighs and then she's lifted up and gently placed on the console. Even with the movement, he doesn't break the kiss. The ability to expertly multitask, another Weyland program, she mused. But one she welcomes enthusiastically.

Elizabeth kissed him back with equal passion then tilting against the console, wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him against her tightly. Now, _now_ she can feel the weight of him, so much more weight than that of a normal man. His synthetic body must weigh an excessive amount, and she won't deny it makes her feel feeble.

"Elizabeth?" David asked, pulling away from her, his head cocked to the side as he studies her face. "Is this alright?"

 _It is._ In fact, it's more than alright. She hasn't realized how much she'd wanted this until she'd given into the temptation.

But beyond a kiss, what more could they have? Companionship certainly. And it wasn't like sex only required a specific set of equipment anyway.

"Yes," she replied, finally finding her voice.

David blinked at her, eyes slowly assessing.

"I see your heart rate is elevated," he said passively. "But I cannot tell if that is from fear or arousal."

Elizabeth almost laughed. Leave it to a synthetic to nearly ruin the mood.

"Sometimes," she replied with a wry smile. "It is a little of both."

And then she leaned in to kiss him again.

* * *

David had never been kissed before. And even after he was never quite certain that he had done it right. Her lips were soft and warm, yet at the same time, they were firm and aggressive as they moved in tandem with his own.

He realized that he had frozen almost entirely at the contact, unsure of how to respond, but she pressed on, without any hesitation. Her tongue slipped over his teeth and glided across the roof of his mouth. He had never experienced anything quite like the sensation. The warmth, the wetness, it all felt too stimulating. The receptors in his brain were firing off neurons, and synapses were making connections, and he thought he might have a small circuit malfunction, but then something in his artificial brain clicked, and he found himself hoisting Elizabeth up onto the console and meeting her lips with as much fervor and passion as she met his.

He found his hands wandering up her spine to cup the back of her neck, and he felt her legs wrap around him, locking themselves into place behind his back. All he knew was that he needed to feel her, to touch every inch of skin. His hands went straight to the zipper of her suit, and he tugged it down as gracefully as he could manage, given the circumstances. His body had gone rigid and hard, he felt every sinew standing on edge as she brought her hands up to his hair and tangled her fingers in it, tugging his head back.

She released his lips suddenly, and he thought she might have come to her senses, but instead, he found her leaving a searing trail of kisses down his neck. She nipped at his ear which sent a signal to his brain that nearly sequenced an automatic system shutdown or at least what felt like one.

Something escaped his throat then, a wanton groan that seemed to encourage her to continue. Uncontrolled urges such as they were, he did not linger on the reason behind them or the dare to dissect them. Had they been Weyland's creation he might loathe to know that they were not fully his own, not a construction of his own synthetic heart. Therefore, he let them drive him, let them guide him and for the first time he felt almost human, driven by something other than careful programming.

Elizabeth didn't brush him away when his kisses became more urgent and his hands peeled her suit off slowly, curiously.

* * *

Elizabeth was unsure of how much further to allow their union but relented all the same. Doubts washed away as she finally succumbed to the desire that had been slowly building over the months aboard the ship. She wanted him and now she could finally admit it.

She fumbled with the zipper on his suit and then carefully peeled the fabric down over his shoulders and pressed kisses down his neck till she reached the careful stitching across his clavicle. He stood impossibly still as she kissed across the line of synthetic skin and she felt another shudder run through him as her hands trailed where her lips had been.

"Elizabeth –," David started. "May I?"

Her eyes darted back up to him, trying to ascertain what he was implying.

"What?" She asked finally, unable to read his intention.

"May I continue?"

He raised his eyebrow questioningly and his hand tugged idly at the zipper that lay half open at her stomach. That's when she realized he was trying to gain her consent. She wanted to ask him if he was capable of sex but was unable to form the words instead, she could only muster one.

"Yes," she replied, coming across more breathless than she'd realized.

The word had only just barely left her lips before he was lifting her again and placing her on the ground as he tugged off the rest of her suit and she stood in front of him in only her breast band and underwear.

His jaw worked slightly as he looked her over, before he removed the breast band, allowing it to fall away. Then he slipped her out of her underwear. And finally she stood before him, completely nude. His synthetic eyes trailed over her working their way up from the ground to finally meet her eyes.

"Perfection," he said quietly, almost a whisper. But she heard him all the same.

"Lies do not become us," she quipped with a smile and went to work pulling off his suit. It came off easily, unlike hers. Since he did not sweat the suit did not cling to him in the same way. Another reminder of their differences. But one she could manage to overlook.

"Perhaps I should be more clear," he said softly. "Human imperfection is perfect in a way. And you are perfectly imperfect. Which does in fact denote perfection in my eyes. It is the conundrum of human existence."

She laughed at that, "you certainly do have a way with words."

If she had been paying attention to his face she might've seen the delighted smirk, but she was not as she busy scrutinizing his synthetic body. For, beside the large scar across his clavicle there was nothing else to denote that he was not human. His body was pale but muscular and he was surprisingly endowed with a rather generous male sexual organ.

"Is this to your satisfaction?" He inquired, making his way back over to her and lifting her onto the console again.

"Are you able to - ?" She blushed, feeling suddenly much younger than she was. "Is it possible?"

He nodded slightly, "Though I wasn't built only for the function, I can control it if I desire. Though I must confess I haven't ever done this before. Ms. Vickers had me perform other tasks for her, but never this."

Something in Elizabeth's stomach twisted. _What other tasks had Ms. Vickers requested from him?_

"David?" She said finally finding her voice. "What did Ms. Vicker's have you do?"

His face went surprisingly neutral at her question, before he responded curtly, "she had me perform cunnilingus."

Disgusted, Elizabeth gently placed a hand on his cheek.

"I don't want you to do this if you don't want to," she said, trying to fight the deep anger that welled inside her at the thought of Ms. Vickers commanding David to service her in such a way.

David straightened slightly, though he didn't pull away from her touch.

"I assure you Elizabeth," He said softly. "This is what I want. _You_ are what I want. This is _my_ choice. _My_ desire." He paused for a moment, searching her face. "And your choice of course. I didn't mean it was only mine."

It took profound strength to not just pull him in, but Elizabeth felt the need to acknowledge David's inexperience in this arena.

"But you've never done this before," she said. "I don't want you to feel rushed."

"I have waited for you for what feels like nearly an eternity," he replied with a smile. "Believe me when I say this hardly feels rushed."

At that she pulled him back down for a kiss, lips brushing slowly, enjoying the cool feel of his synthetic skin. He was equipped with cooling units throughout his body to keep his temperature regulated and control the systems, so they didn't get overheated. But that was excellent for Elizabeth as regardless of the temperature in the ship, it always felt humid and sticky and . . . alien.

Parting her legs gingerly she reached a hand down to stroke him between the legs. David swallowed, a reflex that made Elizabeth almost shiver with want. She had made this emotionless, inhuman being, _feel_ something. She licked her lips and pulled him to her entrance, enjoying the stiffness of him as he swelled. His eyes flicked from her face to her hand and she watched his face contort with an expression she'd never seen before.

Then she slid to the edge of the console, mindful of the controls, and placed his hard cock at her opening.

* * *

He felt it then as he sunk into her, his circuits erupting as she encased him, the pleasure centers in his brain vibrating with the fulfillment of their purpose. For a moment he was sure his system had shut down, he couldn't see or hear, everything seemed to go blank. But then he felt her reassuring fingers gliding down the synthetic skin of his back, and she pulled him down further into ecstasy.

Each small movement of her hips rolling against him lit his senses on fire or at least the metaphorical equivalent. He shuddered with each thrust. The gliding feel as she sheathed him fully was beyond any description, he was utterly at a loss for words.

Her small, warm body bounced at each of his movements, her breasts especially moving in time with his thrusts. He then did something that made him feel so very human, he leaned forward and wrapped his mouth around the plump mound of flesh and sucked.

He was rewarded by a soft moan from Elizabeth which urged him to continue. His taste sensors were busy processing as he continued to plunge in and out of her slick. There were too many sensations, too many feelings, and each of his sensors was slowly short-circuiting until it seemed he was going to overload.

Then it was as if all of the components of his sensors hit one spot and all of his sensations overloaded at the same time. Everything went black, and the eruption of intense pleasure made his body shudder inside hers.

He could barely make out the sound of her gasp as she whined into his ear, pulling him down so her lips could crash against his as her tight cunt spasmed around his cock.

"David," she moaned.

He froze.

"Yes?"

"That wasn't a question," she replied wearily.

"But you said my name."

"I did." She smiled, "I said it because you feel good. And you make me feel good. When people make love, they often say their lover's name."

David liked that idea. "Does that perhaps mean that we are in love?"

The look in her eyes revealed far too much. "Well, I suppose I should have said that when people have sex, they say each other's names. Making love is very intimate David."

"And having sex is not?" He asked he could feel his body switching gears. His curiosity and desire for answers taking over.

"Well, it is." She paused, unsure of how to continue. "Well let me see if I can offer another explanation. You and I engaged in a very intimate act, but the intimacy of the act is determined by the people experiencing it. Two people may have sex but can enjoy it without having feelings for each other beyond desire. Whereas another set of people may have sex because they love each other and desire closeness."

Her explanation was all he needed. He understood finally. To her, it was merely an enjoyable act. It had meant nothing beyond physical pleasure.

"When you engaged in sexual relations with Dr. Holloway was it the first kind or the second?" He inquired.

"I think that is a very personal question David," she answered. "I think we are done here today. Perhaps this was too far."

She pulled away, extricating him from her and quickly dressing again before she left him, alone and confused in the control room.


End file.
